The Center Seat
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #3 Sorry, this little story slipped by me and got out of order. It explains how Spock took command of the Enterprise, and how he also solved a psychological mystery that benefited all of Starfleet.


Command of the Enterprise. It was a position Spock would never have sought, particularly so soon after his Kolinahr years and abrupt reactivation into Starfleet. He had been quite content with his usual posting as science officer—one of the most challenging aboard a starship and one that made full use of his abilities. The position enabled him to access, evaluate, and co-ordinate information from every system in the ship and provide accurate summaries for the captain.

But following the V'ger affair there had been no captain. It was then—as the ship made its way back to Earth—that Admiral Kirk began his relentless campaign to place Spock in that position. "No one is better qualified." "You're overdue for promotion." "Command is not only a privilege, it's a duty." And of course, "Spock, you _must."_

Nevertheless Spock steadfastly resisted Kirk's pressure until the admiral asked, in obvious irritation, "Alright then—what would it take to change that stubborn mind of yours?"

Spock had come very close to declining yet again, once and for all, but instead asked for a single day to review the matter fully. As he was acquainting an inexperienced ensign with the science station, a new idea occurred to him and at day's end he had an answer ready for Kirk.

"First and foremost," he told the admiral, "it is _your_ talents that would be put to their best use as captain of the Enterprise. I could then serve as your executive officer—if you so wished."

Kirk's mood visibly darkened. "Yes, you've said it before. But I'm doing _my_ duty at a desk now. It's your turn for command. _C'mon,_ Spock!"

Spock had moved on to his next point. "Secondly, Commander Sulu is ready for a ship. He was displaced once by Captain Decker's appointment. The Enterprise should go to him now that Decker is gone."

"Yes, yes—once more you're repeating yourself. And _I_ repeat: now _you're_ back in Starfleet and that changes everything. _You_ have seniority…and you're the only one I want in that center seat."

 _Very well,_ Spock had thought. Taking a deep breath, he spoke of his teaching days at Starfleet Academy and the satisfaction he found shaping cadets into productive members of Starfleet. And then he voiced his one condition for assuming command. The Enterprise must be assigned a yearly quota of training missions.

Quite predictably, Kirk went into an emotional rant, accompanied by much pacing. _His_ Enterprise—a schoolhouse? Full of _children?_ Over _his_ dead body…and so on.

In a reasonable tone Spock pointed out that even Kirk was a child once and had benefited from education. "But as you wish," he added. There was a position opening at Starfleet Academy's Science Department, for which he was well suited.

In the end, Spock got the Enterprise on his terms and Kirk grudgingly adjusted to it. But Spock was not so sure that Commander Sulu would adjust. When after three months relations between them remained noticeably stilted, Spock called Sulu into his quarters for a private conversation.

Standing face to face in their pale nondescript uniforms, Spock bluntly informed him, "Perhaps I am mistaken, but it seems to me that you are not content. I want you to know that after the loss of Captain Decker, I recommended you for command of the Enterprise, to no avail."

"And then assumed the position yourself," Sulu boldly responded.

Yes. Spock had. By its very nature, a promotion excluded others from advancing. Some peripheral damage was unavoidable. Judging by the swiftness of Sulu's reply, Spock suspected that he had hit upon the source of the tension. Now in all sincerity he said, "I do hope that will not be an insurmountable problem, for I have always valued you as an officer and I fully trust in your ability to function as my second-in-command."

The praise had its desired affect. Sulu's stance seemed less rigid as he replied, "I…I'm glad to hear that, Captain. I had no idea that you'd recommended me, and…I really _do_ want us to have a good working relationship."

Spock pointed out, "Now that we have undertaken training cruises, there will be more opportunities for you to see your wife and children on Earth."

Sulu's eyes brightened and a bit of a smile stirred his lips. "Yes, sir. There's that."

Straight out of Starfleet's "Promoting Harmony in the Ranks", Spock offered him a seat and asked, "And how _is_ your family?"

Sulu regaled Spock with five stories illustrating the brilliance of his young offspring. The meeting had only just come to an end, and Spock was about to raise the cabin's temperature for his own comfort, when the door chime sounded.

"Spock—you in there?" came a familiar voice from the entry speaker.

Shrugging into a warm over-tunic from his personal wardrobe, Spock called out, "Enter!"

The white-clad visitor came in, eyed Spock's richly colored tunic and said, "Nice."

 _Now here was a mystery._ Doctor Leonard McCoy, forced out of retirement for the V'ger crisis, yet remaining on to serve as Spock's Chief Medical Officer.

McCoy's weathered face was grim as he held out a datapadd and announced, "Captain, we have a problem."

A captain's day was comprised of problems in need of swift, knowledgeable solutions. Spock accepted the Padd and they sat facing one another.

McCoy said in explanation, "Ship-wide psyche evaluations, just in. Engineer Scott and the crew in botany are the only humans on board this ship not suffering some degree of depression."

Spock raised an eyebrow and rapidly perused the data, giving special attention to Sulu's profile. _Moderate level, bearing close review._ "Interesting," he said. Returning the Padd, he looked McCoy in the eye, waiting for him to state the obvious—that it was only to be expected with a Vulcan in command.

But instead McCoy reported, "And not only here. This problem is cropping up on every one of Starfleet's deep Space vessels.

"Indeed. _Most_ interesting." Spock waited a moment to see if more information was forthcoming. Then he asked, "Have you a medical opinion?"

"I'm workin' on it," McCoy drawled, his eyes riveted once more on Spock's tunic. "What color would you call that—just plain red? It looks damn good on you. Tell me, just between the two of us—are you _ever_ going to start showin' some age?"

Spock chose to ignore the question of aging. McCoy knew full well that a Vulcan's body declined much more slowly than a human's. "The color is _nev-kur_. As to this widespread psychological anomaly, I suggest you contact the morale officer and see what can be done to help alleviate it."

"Spock, I have a feeling this might take more than popcorn and movies."

"A _feeling,_ Doctor?"

"Yes, Spock. A feeling."

ooooo

Seated in his sickbay office, McCoy scrolled through page after page of on-screen interviews with crewmembers.

"I'm starting to feel like the walls are closing in."

"I hate it here. Can I say that?"

"Maybe starship duty was a mistake. I'm just not happy."

Frankly, just listening to these kids was dragging McCoy deeper into his own blue mood. It had been a month since the chat with Spock, and morale was no better. Upon reaching Earth at the end of a training session, there had been a veritable stampede to the transporters for shore leave, and two regular crewmen failed to report back. _AWOL—_ such a thing was unheard of on a starship. Most people would give their eyeteeth for a berth on the Enterprise.

And now there was this _new_ wrinkle.

He called up Ensign Tanner's file and there she was, bold as brass, sporting one of those silly hats right during her interview. The beret was a sort of burnt orange color that set off her eyes nicely. More and more he was glimpsing this headgear around the ship. Emerald, turquoise, scarlet—you name it. Heaven help them if Spock ever saw one—he would nail their hides for such a blatant uniform infraction.

ooooo

That very evening, as McCoy was having dinner with the captain, Sulu entered the officer's dining room. And there it was, perched atop the commander's head, the color of daffodils in the spring, with lovely green piping.

McCoy swallowed the wrong way and by the time he was through coughing, Sulu had selected his food and joined them. As Sulu ate hungrily, Spock gazed upon him for a full minute before saying in a mild tone, "Mister Sulu. I want to thank you."

Sulu glanced up, and becoming aware of Spock's scrutiny and the reason for it, snatched the non-regulation beret from his head. He had clearly forgotten that he was wearing it.

"Sweet lord," McCoy said under his breath. "Spock…I meant to tell you…"

The Vulcan gave him a glance. "Have you also uncovered the problem?"

Just now, the only problem evident to McCoy was sitting right there on the table beside Sulu's plate.

"We will need paint," Spock said, which made no sense at all. "As for the uniforms, we must first gather input from the entire crew—although I do have an idea of my own, based on a traditional Vulcan design using turnbuckles. I envision something in the order of…nev-kur. Doctor, you like it, so other humans might like it, as well."

By now McCoy was totally lost. "Spock. What the blazes are you talking about?"

"Of course," Spock went on, "we will formulate a comprehensive report and submit our recommendations through proper Starfleet channels for final approval. But I see no reason why we cannot proceed with the paint, for captain's discretion allows some degree of liberty in such matters. Even murals might be appropriate in common areas."

McCoy came close to putting a hand on Spock's forehead, but thought better of it. "Paint? Murals? What, are we all going to be artists now?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Only those who are so inclined. It is a matter of color psychology—the electro-magnetic radiation of light and its effect on human mood and behavior. This crew has been negatively impacted by suppressive coloration."

 _Suppressive coloration._ McCoy looked at Spock's bland uniform, at Sulu's, and at his own—which was at least a _crisp_ shade of white. His gaze roamed over the room's pallid walls; the grayish plates on the table; his colorless mashed potatoes, chicken breast, and tapioca pudding. Why had it not occurred to him before? Come to think of it, these pathetic excuses for uniforms _had_ been a source of rec room grousing. But he had been so caught up in his emotions when he first came aboard, and since then it had been one thing after another.

"Of course," he said in amazement. "Botany has all those gorgeous plants, and Scotty…well…"

"He's in love with his engines," Sulu spoke up at last. "Scotty never notices much of anything else."

"Well, I'll be!" McCoy exclaimed with a grin. "Spock, for once you're right. This whole damn ship _is_ depressing. I wonder what paper-pushing genius came up with this color scheme."

ooooo

It was with a sense of satisfaction that Spock donned his newly issued uniform for the first time. Not only was it equipped with a prominent turnbuckle, the nev-kur material was warmer, as well—so warm, in fact, that initial trials resulted in a recommendation that ambient temperature be lowered to compensate. _Sixty-seven degrees._ One might as well live on Andor.

Across the cabin, his monitor beeped, signaling an incoming compacket. With one final glance in the mirror, Spock went to his desk and ordered the queue of messages onscreen.

…All over Starfleet the redesigned uniforms were creating a boost in morale. The tinted turtleneck beneath the jacket was considered a "nice touch", but "too hot" by many crewmembers. Recommendation: continue adjusting ships' temperatures downward.

…An arrangement had been reached between Dr. McCoy and Dr. M'Benga of Starfleet Medical Center, San Francisco, as part of the ongoing medical placement program designed to offer starship experience to more physicians. Dr. Williamson would be leaving the Enterprise. His replacement? Fielding, Lauren A., whose photo had been corrupted in transmission. Well, Spock would meet the lieutenant when she arrived.

…New orders. Upcoming negotiations involving a colony trade conference. A Federation envoy would be taken aboard, more details to follow. The Enterprise shall then proceed to— _Ildarani._

Spock abruptly stopped breathing. All thought of thermostats fled from his mind as the years rolled back. His heart was pounding out of control, and his throat was aching.

 _Ildarani!_


End file.
